Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi?
by M'rika
Summary: A series of snapshots featuring four Harry Potter Couples. JamesxLily, LuciusXNarcissa, AndromedaxTed, RodolphusxBellatrix and SiriusxRemus
1. James and Lily

An: A collection of snapshots about four couples in the harry potter fandom, all centred around the phrase Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi? i.e will you sleep with me. However, I don't speak French, so any French used is from Google translate. Please don't judge it too harshly. Enjoy

Voulez Vous Coucher Avec Moi?

_James and Lily_

"Voulez vous coucher avec moi?" He was hoping she didn't actually speak French, because he was pretty sure if she did he was going to get slapped again. He was convinced that the skin on his cheeks was toughening up, and he wasn't sure it was a good look. His appeal was based on the messy hair that girls wanted to tidy, the glasses that made him look vulnerable, and the muscles that Quidditch had brought him. Scars and wounds weren't part of his image. He left the war torn look to Remus. So if Lily slapped him hard enough to bruises again, he'd have no luck with anyone till it had disappeared. And he'd have to put up with Sirius poking it every five minutes asking if it would hurt.

As her eyes widened in shock, James realised she did speak French, and that instead of being impressed with his use of one of the sexiest sounding languages, he was going to get slapped.

It wouldn't keep him down for long. Even as her hand collided with his cheek, he was wondering if Spanish or Italian would be a better idea next time.


	2. Lucius and Narcissa

Lucius and Narcissa

"Parlez-vous français?"

Narcissa arched a delicate eyebrow. "Naturellement," she replied. Lucius knew she spoke French; most English pureblood families did. It probably stemmed from Norman the Conqueror, when French became the superior language. Of course, it wasn't anymore, but it did help on those shopping trips to Paris. Come to think of it, she didn't think she had ever met a pureblood who couldn't speak French. Most understood Latin as well, as it meant all their mottos made sense. Without Latin, how would anyone know what Toujours pur or Sanctimonia Vincet Semper or even _Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus_, the ridiculous motto of her old school, meant?

It didn't mean that they spoke French all the time. They couldn't use it as a code, because the people that they would talk about all understood French, so really, being bilingual was simply another way of proving that she was good at everything she did. And since her marriage, she'd found numerous other things she was good at, so why her husband was bringing up her language skills, she wasn't sure.

It wasn't until she realised he was watching her with that look in his eyes, that she realised what he was going to say. "Voulez vous coucher avec moi?" he asked, his voice nonchalant, as though he was asking her to pick out a tie for him.

She giggled, knowing full well that Lucius' average grasp of French meant that he never realised how formal he sounded when he said that. But she loved him for it, and would never dream of telling him. "Why, monsieur," she beamed. "I thought you'd never ask."


	3. Andromeda and Ted

_Andromeda and Ted_

Sat at the kitchen table surrounded by papers, Andromeda felt happy. While there were easier things one could do than deciphering Mrs Brink's spidery writing, Andromeda was finally working for the National Wizarding Library, and she wasn't some lowly secretary. She was creating typed copies of ancient wizarding manuscripts. Of course, it didn't pay much, but they managed. At the wedding they'd promised 'for richer, for poorer', knowing that the latter was much more likely than the former.

Ted was banging around the kitchen, supposedly making tea, but she was pretty sure all he was making was a mess. He wasn't good at keeping their tiny flat tidy. She wanted to say it was a man thing, but she remembered her youngest cousin's room as being immaculate all the time.

"Dromeda."

"Yes?" She didn't turn around, still focusing on the edits Mrs Brink suggested.

"You how sexy you are when you speak French…" It sounded unfinished, as though there was another part to that sentence that was still to come.

"Yes." She knew he liked it when she spoke in the foreign tongue, but she really needed to get this transcription finished, so she could have it typed the next day.

"well… Voulez vous coucher avec moi?" His French was heavily accented, and what he'd said was really formal, but the fact that he'd bothered made her smile and turn, beaming up at him. He looked sheepish, but there was a grin dancing about his lips.

"Oui, monsieur mais je ferais mieux de vous avertir –"

He didn't let her finish before kissing her.


	4. Bellatrix and Rodolphus

_Bellatrix and Rodolphus_

Their relationship had gone downhill since he had cheated on her, of course it had. But now she'd kicked him out of their bedroom. He hadn't done anything wrong. At least, now, after far too many glasses of red wine, he didn't remember doing anything wrong. He didn't remember much of anything, other than the fact that his wife, his possession, his toy, had ejected him from the one place he had the most right to be.

Banging on the door, shouting loud enough for the whole manor to hear, he didn't care so much about the fact that his marriage was disintegrating around him, as that he wanted to take was legally his.

"Belle! Bellatrix! Open this door, right now or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" The door had flung open, and in the doorway stood his beautiful wife, her wand pointed at him. "You'll what, darling?" He wasn't drunk enough to miss the sarcasm in her voice, and he scowled.

"Coucher avec moi." He wasn't quite sure why he'd descended into French, and bad French at that, but it seemed appropriate.

"No." She laughed, almost manically. "You will never touch me again." When he made a move towards her, she jabbed her wand towards him. "I'm sorry," she said sweetly, "did you want to be reacquainted with your old friend crucio?"

"Bella, you're my wife," he thundered, towering over her as best he could.

"Maybe, but you gave up any rights to claiming that when you slept with that **whore**," she shouted back. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him, laughing as he stumbled backwards, crashing into the wall behind him.


	5. Sirius and Remus

An: Written by Tangerinefields for a pairing I'd considered, but failed at. All praise/hatred goes to her. Enjoy.

Sirius and Remus

"You'll have to excuse my French, monsieur," Sirius, resplendent in a moth eaten burgundy dressing gown leant over the arm of his chair and whispered into the shell of Remus' ear. "But this just doesn't sound right in English."

Remus shuddered, closing his eyes. He should be too worn, too tired to still be turned on like this. Even being in the same room with Sirius was like being connected to the bloody mains. "I assume," he murmured, "That you're not going to ask me to stoke the fire?"

Sirius nibbled at Remus' ear. "You could put it that way."

"How else could you put it?"

Sirius, who was in danger of loosing his footing on the chair and sprawling gracelessly to the threadbare carpet, planted the first of a trail of kissing against the scarred skin of Remus' neck. "Oh I don't know –"

"You were-" Remus moaned. "You were going to say it."

"And there was me assuming you only utilised my knowledge of French to chat up librarians."

Remus coloured. "Gods," he groaned. "You swore we'd forget about that."

"Never." Sirius nipped Remus' jaw. "It was hilarious." He leant in to claim the lycanthrope's lips, but Remus pulled away.

"Say it," he commanded. "Or you're sleeping on the floor tonight."

"I don't think you've got it in you, Rem," Sirius murmured, his hands descending. "But as tu, j'adore, I'll humour you." He leant in, until their noses were almost touching, and closed his slate grey eyes. "Moony, voulez vous coucher avec moi?"

"Gods yes," Remus whispered. "A thousand times, yes."


End file.
